


You're Telling Me... That Stiles Can Fight?

by OhanaHoku



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Absolutely none!, Angst and Feels, BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Feels, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Kidnapping, McCall Pack, PTSD, Pack Feels, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Scira is there too but still not the focus of the story, Stalia is in this story but is not the main plot, Stiles Stilinski Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, There is no sexual torture!, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2019-11-14 06:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18047441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhanaHoku/pseuds/OhanaHoku
Summary: Then he heard it. Felt it. A dark whisper somewhere in the back of his subconscious.You know how to fight.





	1. Fight For Your Life

**Author's Note:**

> New Story! Slow updates as always. Still figuring out the plot, but enjoy the first chapter! TW: Some Violence - Word Count: 583

    “Stiles!” The call of his name was so faint that Stiles didn’t even hear it, but the resounding howl that followed after it reverberated against the walls of the sewer, finally reaching Stiles.

 

    “Scott!” For a split second Stiles was relieved before the werewolf chasing him growled. Scott was too far away. He wouldn’t make it on time and with how close the werewolf was Stiles would be ripped to shreds before Scott could catch up.

 

    Heart pounding, each beat a sharp staccato that sent waves of adrenaline through Stile’s veins, Stiles put on a burst of speed. He rounded a corner, skidding to a stop as he realized the tunnel ended.

 

    Quickly he turned to run in the other direction, but the werewolf had already caught up with him. The half man, half beast bared its teeth and growled, walking forward slowly now that Stiles had nowhere to go.

 

    “Look, man. You don’t want to do this.” He said, backing up toward the stone wall. “You’re making a big mistake. Scott’s gonna kick your ass if you kill me.” He told him as he looked around desperately for something, anything that would help him.

 

    The werewolf grinned, stalking toward him as Stiles’ heart pounded violently in his chest, knowing there was no way out of it this time.

 

    “You think Scott McCall can kill me?” He snarled, moving forward. “He is weak. Once I kill you he’ll be easy to take down.”

 

    Before Stiles could retort the beta werewolf launched himself forward.

 

    And time stilled, the supernatural suspended in mid-air, his teeth bared and eyes a wild yellow as his claws reached for Stiles’ throat.

 

    Stiles couldn’t move, it was like time froze in that movement with only the gears in his head turning. But he couldn’t find a way out.

 

    Then he heard it. Felt it. A dark whisper somewhere in the back of his subconscious.

 

**_You know how to fight._ **

_What?_

 

**_You know how to fight, you’ve done it before._ **

 

_I don’t know what you’re talking about, what are you?_

 

    Instead of an answer, images were quickly conjured up in his mind. The things he was forced to do by the nogitsune. He saw himself fighting against skilled swordswomen, werewolves, he saw himself toss Derek around like he was nothing.

 

    He saw things that he had never done, things he’d seen in the mind of the nogitsune, things that he’d never told anyone about. He saw unspeakable acts of violence, things the nogitsune had forced him to know, to see and feel. Things that Stiles… That he knew.

 

    He didn’t have the strength the nogitsune did, but he had knowledge. He knew the moves, he knew how to follow the flow and rhythm of a fight. He knew how to win.

 

   **_That’s it. Fight, Stiles. Fight for your life._ **

 

    He blinked and when he opened his eyes time started again.

 

    Faster than he knew he could move Stiles had grabbed the beta’s outstretched wrist and sidestepped, wrenching his arm around, causing the were to crash headfirst against the wall.

 

    Stiles backed up some, putting some distance between them as he glanced around once more, this time finding a short metal pipe laying on the ground. He picked it up, gripping it firmly as the werewolf shook himself off and growled.

 

    The were roared loudly, Stiles flinching back in fear at the sheer rage in the howl. He swallowed thickly, forcing a fake shout of bravado through his fear. “Come on!”


	2. He Was Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You did it. You stopped him.” He said, breath leaving him in a relieved sigh.
> 
> Scott blinked at him for a moment. “Stiles, I didn’t do anything. That was all you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back with another chapter! Finally! So, I've decided where in the timeline I'm placing this. It's set during the time of season four, but in an AU where the dead pool doesn't exist. I may or may not bring Kate into this story, not sure yet. Anyway, for this AU Argent has stuck around, even after the death of Allison. Isaac is still gone though and Derek has left as well, though I assure you I will be bringing him back in later chapters. This is starting shortly after Malia has learned to control her abilities with Stiles help and will therefore have some Stalia in it. I may switch it to Stydia later or maybe not. Also, Liam and Mason are not in this AU, sorry for any Liam and Mason lovers out there. Alright! I think that's all I need to say aside from TW for some violence.

    Scott caught up with them just in time to see Stiles deliver a solid hit to the werewolf’s jaw with the pipe. The beta went down in a heap as Stiles stumbled back against the wall, breath coming in heavy pants as he slid down to the floor. The pipe fell from his hand, clattering loudly against the cement and shaking Scott from his shock. “Stiles!”

 

    Stiles flinched as Scott landed next to him, head jerking in his direction, his eyes shifting between him and the werewolf on the ground. “Scott?”

 

    Scott nodded, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, it’s me. You okay?”

 

    A moment passed before he nodded, one hand reaching to grip Scott’s jacket as he calmed down. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” He whispered, swallowing hard before he stilled, staring at the beta. “You did it. You stopped him.” He said, breath leaving him in a relieved sigh.

 

    Scott blinked at him for a moment. “Stiles, I didn’t do anything. That was all you.”

 

    Stiles’ gaze snapped to his eyes. “Wait, really?” He asked, brows furrowing as Scott nodded. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to speak. “I thought I was dreaming that.”

 

    His friend shook his head, eyes studying him. “How did you do that?” He asked, still having trouble processing it.

 

    Stiles shook his head, hand gesturing towards the wolf on the ground like he wasn’t sure about it himself. “I don’t- I don’t know. He had me cornered and I- You weren’t going to make it in time and I found the pipe and- I guess just- Adrenaline?” He ended, looking up at Scott.

 

    Scott nodded a little. “Yeah, okay. Come on.” He grabbed Stiles’ hand and pulled him up, steadying him as Stiles stumbled. “You sure you’re okay?”

 

    “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.” Scott nodded, walking with Stiles back towards the others that were on their way.

 

    “Stiles!” Malia called out his name, rushing up to them. “Thank god, Scott got to you in time.” She said, looking at Scott before moving closer to Stiles who put an arm around her shoulder and drew her in for a hug.

 

    “I didn’t do anything. Stiles saved himself, not me.” Scott said before smiling over at Kira as she came up.

 

    Malia pulled back, brows furrowed. “Wait, Stiles beat a werewolf?”

 

    Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Defenseless Stiles couldn’t beat a werewolf in a fight, could he? Guess I’m not as useless as everyone thinks.” He said, shrugging with his arms outstretched.

 

    Lydia narrowed her eyes at him, but Malia spoke up first. “Well, yeah. I mean, it’s not like you really know how to fight.”

 

    Stiles sighed and started walking away. “Whatever. Oh, Argent, hey, left a present for you back there. Sorry, didn’t have time to wrap it.” He joked, patting his shoulder.

 

    Chris Argent paused his walking as Stiles passed, looking back at him before looking at the group. “Wanna fill me in on what he’s talking about?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

    Scott spoke up first. “Um, Stiles knocked out the werewolf back there.” He told him, gesturing in the beta’s direction.

 

    “Stiles did that?” He asked, the disbelief on his face mirroring theirs.

 

    Scott nodded. “Yeah, um. He used a pipe. I guess he just got lucky."

 

    Argent frowned, looking back at Stiles just as the young man turned the corner, Stiles staring back at him for a moment before he disappeared from sight.

 

    “Well! Now that no one’s in danger, we should go. I have an English paper to write.” Lydia said, starting to follow Stiles.

 

    Malia groaned, falling in step behind her. “That reminds me that I have a math test to study for.”

 

    The others followed, leaving Argent to take care of the beta. He knelt next to the body, eyes widening as he turned the unconscious man onto his back. His eyes were open in a blank stare, the right side of his face already black and blue with a small line of blood dripping from his mouth.

 

    That empty stare finally focused on Argent, his mouth moving soundlessly before he finally spoke. “D-Don’t… Don’t let him near me again. I’ll be good, I promise! Just don’t let that monster near me again.” He begged, claws tearing Argent’s coat as he gripped at him. “P-Please.” He whispered, eyes slipping shut before he went limp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count - 736. Don't worry, Stiles didn't kill the beta. In fact, he didn't even hurt him that bad, the werewolf has simply never seen a human who could fight so well. :)


	3. The Fun Can Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stopped suddenly as the lights went out, heart nearly stopping as he heard heavy breathing what wasn’t his own behind him. “S-Scott?” He whispered before he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck and collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been trying to work on my other stories, but when inspiration strikes what can I do but obey? So here's a new chapter! TW: Slight Blood

    Nothing happened after that. The next few weeks were completely normal, for Beacon Hills that is. They still had their run of the mill problems that came with being associated with a pack of werewolves, but they hadn’t had any run-ins with death, so Stiles was happy.

 

    That is until the inevitable happened and a new problem arose.

 

    Stiles and Lydia were talking in the parking lot after school, the others studying for a group project in the library, when Lydia suddenly stopped, getting that look on her face that Stiles had come to know as her ‘Death Face,’ the face that never boded well for their little group.

 

    “Lydia? Lydia, what is it?” Stiles asked, already scrambling to get his phone out of his pocket to check in with Scott before her words made him freeze, his phone falling out of his hands.

 

    The screen cracked as Stiles’ breath hitched, his eyes going wide. “Stiles?” Lydia called, her voice sounding tinny under the rush of his heartbeat as he stumbled back in a daze, hands reaching for the door of his jeep.

 

    “Lydia, find Scott.” He said breathlessly, jumping into his jeep. “Find Scott!” He shouted out of the window before peeling out of the parking lot, ignoring the way she called after him.

 

    She had to be wrong. She _had_ to be.

 

*************************

 

    “Mrs. McCall!” Stiles shouted as he ran into the hospital, a chill running through him as a few lights flickered in the dimly lit ER entrance.

 

    “Mrs. McCall? Melissa?!” He called louder, panicking as he ran down the empty corridor that was usually bustling with people.

 

    He stopped suddenly as the lights went out, heart nearly stopping as he heard heavy breathing what wasn’t his own behind him. “S-Scott?” He whispered before he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck and collapsed.

 

*************************

 

    “Stiles? Stiles, come on, wake up.” Melissa coaxed, slapping his face gently.

 

    “Whoa-what? What’s going on?” Stiles rambled, waking with a start and hitting his head against the wall. He groaned before seeing Melissa staring at him and remembering what happened.

 

    “You’re alive!” He exclaimed, sitting up and reaching out to grab onto her. “You’re alive. Oh thank god, you’re alive.”

 

    Melissa nodded, giving him a gentle smile. “I’m okay, Stiles.” She said, though her face was tight with worry.

 

    Stiles looked around, his heart sinking when he found them in an industrial freezer, his mind just registering the cold air around them. “Where are we?” He asked, moving to stand up and wincing when he felt his joints ache from the movement.

 

   She followed him. “I don’t know.” She walked over to the door, but the frosted glass of the window made it impossible for them to see through. She let out a slight groan, rubbing at her elbow. “Whatever they drugged us with sure packs a punch.”

 

    Stiles nodded, glancing over at her from where he was looking around for a temperature control gauge. His face paled. “You’re hurt.” He stated, hurrying to her side and reaching up to touch the shallow slit at the back of her neck that was bleeding sluggishly.

 

    She batted his hand away. “I’m fine, Stiles. You have one too.” She pointed out, Stiles reaching to the back of his neck. He pulled his hand away and swallowed thickly, staring at his fingers that were painted red with his own blood.

 

    The ground suddenly swayed beneath him as his pulse pounded in his ears. “Stiles? Stiles, hang on, kiddo.” Melissa muttered, helping him sit down. She pushed his head between his knees, urging him to breathe.

 

    The nauseous panic slowly faded, Stiles lifting his head when he felt that he’d no longer faint. “Thanks.” He murmured, swallowing down his nerves and giving her a small smile.

 

    She nodded, patting his shoulder before looking up as the door opened, an attractive woman with sharp features walking in.

 

    Stiles and Melissa shared a glance, Stiles pushing himself up on one knee and shoving Melissa behind himself as he looked up at the woman.

 

    “Good, you’re awake.” She said, giving them an eerie grin that became downright frightening as the pupils in her eyes grew until her eyes were entirely black.

 

 

    “Now the fun can begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count - 710. Find a typo, an error. I dare you. Even Grammarly couldn't! XD Next chapter possibly showcasing Lydia finding Scott? Or maybe more of Stiles and Melissa? I haven't decided yet.
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated as they are what fuel my inspiration!


	4. The Creachadair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia and the others rush to the hospital as Stiles has a chat with their captor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, nothing like a new chapter of a story to make your day, right? Sorry for the slow updates, I am very busy currently and I haven't had much time to write. TWs for this chapter: Slight Violence (Kinda? It's actually nothing, but I'll put that warning here in case.)

    “Scott!”

 

    Scott and Kira looked up as Lydia hurried into the library, her eyes wide with fear as she stopped at their desk and looked around nervously.

 

    Deciding no one was within earshot, she spoke up softly. “We have to get to the hospital now.” She told them, her quiet voice urgent. “Mrs. McCall’s in danger, Stiles is already on his way over there.”

 

    Scott’s eyes widened, he grabbed his phone, speed-dialing his mother. When there was no answer, he tried Stiles instead, looking up as he heard Stiles’ obnoxious ringtone.

 

    Lydia held Stiles’ phone in her hand, the cracked screen lighting up, that stupid wallpaper Stiles had put on his phone mocking him, a picture of a wolf howling at the moon.

 

     “We need to go.” Lydia urged, spurring the others to act as they grabbed their bags and got up, leaving their textbooks at the table.

 

*************************

 

    They passed Malia in the hallway.

 

    Lydia was the one who noticed her standing there. “Stiles needs us.” That was all Malia had to hear. Those three words and she had stepped in line behind them, any thoughts of meeting her new tutor flying out the window.

 

    They piled into Lydia’s car, Malia looking to the others. “What’s going on? Where is Stiles?”

 

    “The hospital,” Scott answered, looking to Lydia as she pulled out of the school. “What’s going on? What did you see, Lydia?”

 

    The petite blonde’s lips pressed together as she stared at the road, the weight of her prediction weighing heavily on her chest.

 

    “Lydia?” Scott whispered.

 

    It was the faint, fearful waver in his voice that finally reached her. She closed her eyes as she stopped at a red light, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

 

    She turned to Scott, her wide eyes mourning the death of one that had not yet passed, and whispered the same words she told Stiles. “Melissa is going to die.”

 

*************************

 

    Stiles glared at the woman as she grinned at them, a shiver running down his spine as he looked into those disturbingly empty eyes of hers. “What do you want from us? Who are you?” He demanded.

 

    She tilted her head at his tone, unused to her prey having such audacity, as to demand answers of her. She had grown accustomed to her prey cowering as they begged for her to let them go, pleading as they cried like sniveling children.

 

    But this one. This one had spirit. He had courage, even now as she felt the fear in his soul. Her grin widened, pleased that she had found a target that would give her some sport for a change.

 

    Deciding that it would only help fuel his terror if he knew who she was and his imminent demise, she smiled down at him. “I am the Creachadair of souls.” She told them, staring them down with a cocky, arrogant look.

 

    The boy only stared at her though, blankly blinking at her before he shook his head a little. “Sorry, say that again, I wasn’t listening.”

 

    “Stiles!” Her other captive gasped, this one giving the boy an incredulous look that clearly screamed for him to be quiet.

 

    The boy, Stiles, didn’t even react, still staring at her with that insolent demanding look.

 

    Ignoring the slight irritation it caused her the supernatural being repeated herself, glaring at him now.

 

    But instead of the fear she expected to invoke, the boy just kept staring at her, a slight pinch between his brows as he processed.

 

    He rose an eyebrow. “You’re the Creaky Door of Souls?” He asked, looking unimpressed as she bristled, anger welling up in her.

 

     “So? You can open the door into our souls and what, exactly? Can you possess us or? Cause, let me tell you, I’ve already gone through the whole creepy possession thing and I survived, so I gotta say I’m not too impre-”

 

    “Enough!” She shouted. “I am the Creachadair, and you will fear me!” She shouted, raising her hand, her eyes suddenly glowing a bright white.

 

    A smirk fell over her face once more as Stiles slumped to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count - 684... So is Stiles dead? What did she do? How did she do it? What's going to happen next? Stick around to find out! Comments and kudos are appreciated, let me know what you think of the story so far!
> 
> Also, for anyone wondering, Creachadair is Scottish Gaelic for Predator, according to Google Translate. This is a made up supernatural of mine, because I know very little of mythical beings and am too lazy to do any research.


	5. Where Are They?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mom!” Scott burst into the hospital, chest heaving as he looked around the dark, abandoned hallway. “Mom!” He ran down the corridor, calling his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Thank you so much to everyone for the kudos and comments on the last chapter, they reminded me to update this. TW: Non-Physical Violence (?) Not sure how else to describe it, so enjoy!

     Melissa screamed his name as Stiles fell to the floor, moving to grab him before the ache within her body increased. She gasped as she sagged against the wall, wincing as she curled in on herself.

 

     The nurse shuddered as she looked up at their captor. “What did you do to him?” She rasped, her gaze trailing down to the boy.

 

     The Creachadair smiled, the glow in her eyes diminishing until they were black once more. “Oh, don’t worry, he isn’t dead. Yet.” She said, stepping over to Stiles. She crouched down next to him, brushing his hair back in an almost reverent manner. “No, no. This one is special.”

 

     Melissa’s blood ran cold as she watched the woman interact with Stiles. “What are you talking about? What are you going to do to him?”

 

     The woman laughed, her eyes shifting back to their usual blue hue surrounded by white. She flipped her golden hair out of her face and stood up, stepping over Stiles’ body. She stooped down to cup Melissa’s chin, her victim tensing under her touch. “Now now, pretty lady. Where would the fun be if I told you? Oh no. No, you’ll just have to wait and see.” She told her, her voice sickeningly sweet.

 

     Her hand trailed down Melissa’s shoulder. “You poor thing. So worried, so tense. But don’t fret, I know how to help you relax.” She cooed as her eyes once again glowed white.

 

     “Sleep well, my pet.” She called over her shoulder to Melissa’s unconscious body. “I do hope you have sweet dreams.”

 

     She smirked to herself as she dragged Stiles out of the room. It was time to have some fun.

 

*************************

 

     “Mom!” Scott burst into the hospital, chest heaving as he looked around the dark, abandoned hallway. “Mom!” He ran down the corridor, calling his mother.

 

     “Stiles!” Lydia called behind him, Kira and Malia’s voices joining in as they searched through the various rooms.

 

     “They’re not here! They’re not here.” Scott panted, his chest tightening with panic. “Where are they?” He looked over at the banshee. “Lydia?”

 

     “Don’t look at me! What about you? You’re a werewolf, can’t you just track their scent?” She asked.

 

     “I can’t smell either of them,” Malia said, frowning. “Something’s wrong. I don’t smell Stiles at all.”

 

     Scott nodded. “I can’t either. Maybe they weren’t here? Maybe they were at my house or something.”

 

     “We should split up. Scott, you and Malia can take your house while Lydia and I check in with the sheriff, maybe he’s heard something.” Kira suggested.

 

     Lydia nodded. “We’ll take the car, Scott and Malia can reach the house faster on foot.”

 

     The alpha nodded, his brow pinched. “Lydia, there is still time, right? They’re still- I mean they’re not- Are they?”

 

     The banshee licked her lips, shaking her head slightly as she looked up at him. “I don’t know.” She whispered, “I just don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count - 485. Not as long as I orginally planned, but I think this was a good spot for a chapter split. Keep those comments coming, I love the support! So, what will happen in the next chapter? How is the Creachadair affecting them? What's going to happen to Stiles and will Scott reach him in time? I guess you'll have to subscribe to find out!


	6. Almost Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’d ask where I am, but that seems too cliche.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again with a new chapter! But first, I'd like to thank you all for reading, bookmarking, and subscribing to this story and for the lovely comments and kudos on the previous chapters! As for trigger warning for this chapter, um not really anything? Creepiness maybe, if you'd consider that a trigger. Other than that it's a fairly tame chapter, so enjoy!

     Consciousness came with the feeling of heavy limbs and an even heavier mind, thoughts slow as if they had to wade through mud just to reach the forefront of his mind.

 

     Stiles opened his eyes slowly, expecting the pounding in his head to increase once he let the light in, but finding that the room was so dim that he could barely see. One dull bulb hung from the ceiling over him, illuminating only a few feet around him, leaving the rest of the room in deep shadow.

 

     He blinked slowly as the fog clouding his brain cleared, looking down at himself to find that he was strapped to a medical table, his wrists handcuffed to the metal framework on its underside, and his back lifted up, so he was just shy of sitting.

 

     He huffed and dropped his head back. “I’d ask where I am, but that seems too cliche.” He murmured, lifting his head again as he tried to peer into the dark. “I know you’re there, so what’s the plan? Torture me, I’m guessing from the eerily lit room and the fact that I’m tied down.”

 

     A light laugh drew his attention to the right, and he narrowed his eyes as he tried to see through the blackness. His heart was racing with fear, but he refused to show it, refused to give in to the panic that was squeezing his lungs and making it hard to keep his breathing steady.

 

     “You do have spirit, I’ll give you that.”

 

     Stiles startled violently, his heart thudding at a painfully brutal pace and his head whirling to his left to find the Creachadair standing right next to him, her eyes an abysmal black. His breathing faltered for a moment as fear gripped him, its claws digging painfully into his chest.

 

     The woman smiled, clearly amused as she stepped a few paces over, standing in front of him. “Oh, my child. The things you must have gone through to be so good at ignoring your fear.”

 

     Stiles swallowed thickly as she called him her child, her words creepy and possessive, yet almost compassionate and caring. He stayed silent, trying to get his erratic heartbeat under control.

 

     “I can just taste your torment.” She said, continuing to walk around the table until she reached his right side. “So delicious.” She purred, her hand coming up to caress his face, paying him no mind as he flinched, her fingers tracing over his forehead and down to his jaw where her hand stilled, thumb gently rubbing his cheek.

 

     She smiled sweetly as his panic swelled, the boy terror-stricken under her touch. “You know, in Irish Creachadair means predator. I am the predator of souls because they are what I feast on.” She informed him.

 

     Stiles’ breath shook as he exhaled, his wide eyes staring up at her. “S-So what, are you just gonna grab a fork and have at me, or do you prefer me cooked to raw?” He asked, his words too fast as he rambled, his mind going a million miles as he tried to figure a way out of the dire situation.

 

     She laughed once more and pulled away, melting back into the shadows. “Oh, Stiles, was it? You are so very entertaining.” Her disembodied voice said, Stiles tracking her movement around the room as she walked. “But truly, you are almost perfect. Almost the perfect meal. All you need is a little seasoning.” She muttered.

 

     She fell silent then, her steps too feather-light for Stiles to hear. It was both nerve-wracking and relieving not being able to see her. He focused on taking a few deep breaths, willing his panic to subside.

 

     “I’m going to be very annoyed if you sprinkle salt and pepper on me.” He managed to say, voice steady once more. Tensely waiting, Stiles stared down at the handcuffs in contempt. If he could just pull his hands out, then he could undo the buckles on the leather straps, find Melissa and- Melissa.

 

     Melissa wasn’t dead, was she? She hadn’t already fallen victim to the Creachadair’s appetite, had she? She couldn’t have. No. No, she was still alive, and that was that. Stiles refused to believe anything else.

 

_ Please be okay. Please. I can’t lose ano- _

 

     His train of thought was cut short abruptly as the Creachadair stepped back into the light, a large, gleaming knife in her hand. “Let’s start shall we?” She asked sweetly.

 

     Stiles grit his teeth as he stared at the blade, his heart sinking.  _ Now would be a great time to show up, Scott! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count - 763. Oh boy, here we go! Poor Stiles! He just never catches a break. I would like to just take this opportunity to assure my readers that although this will be containing some torture in the future chapters, there will be no sexual themes involved. The Creachadair has some awful pet names for her victims and a bit of a lack for personal space, but I promise that's where it ends and goes no further.
> 
> Now that that's out of the way... I hope you all liked this chapter! Let me know your thoughts and theories on what the next chapter might be, I'd love to hear from my readers! Have a wonderful day and I'll see you in the next chapter! ;)


End file.
